February 25th
by waterunderthecatwalk
Summary: February 25th, the anniversary of his death. PruHun.


Elizaveta sat down on the bed. Today was the day. With a sigh, she stood pulled on black jeans and a jacket over her shirt. Making a face at herself in the mirror, she ran a brush through her long hair and pulled it over her shoulder. Tapping her foot anxiously, she gazed around the room lost in thought. Why did she feel like she was forgetting something? Then, it sparked her mind. She grabbed her phone off of the bedside table and replayed the message.

_"Hey Liz, guess I'm gonna be late home tonight. But don't worry. It's just another meeting. I'll see you later. Love you."_

She glanced at her calendar, today's date circled in a deep blue marker. February 25th. Biting her lip, she forced herself to stop crying. She could hold herself together. Elizaveta left her bedroom and wandered down the halls of Ludwig's house, still trying to figure out why she had forgiven him. She found her way to the kitchen where the flowers were sitting in the vase of water. She had gotten them the day before, wanting something special for this date. She was probably the only person who cared.

"Elizaveta?"

She turned at the sound of Ludwig's voice. Its usual gruffness was smoothed out. He knew what today was too.

"Hey." She murmured. "I was just going out." She walked through the doorframe and put one hand on the knob, flipping her bangs out of her eyes. "Wanna come?"

"About that…" Ludwig trailed off. "I'm busy today. But I can go tomorrow." Elizaveta made out another figure behind him, but the lights in the hall were off so she couldn't tell who it was.

"Oh." She looked down at her feet, bare in the harsh light of the kitchen. "Okay."

"Veta?" the other person spoke, and Elizaveta heard the Austrian accent tinged in his voice. "Are you okay?" Ludwig drew him aside. Elizaveta could barely make out what he was saying.

"It's February 25th, you idiot." He was speaking harshly. "You know what happened?"

"Of course I do." Roderich began, "But I never cared for that bastard anyway."

"I'm not asking you to go!" Elizaveta interrupted angrily. "I'll go to the memorial by myself." The two men turned to look at her and she scooped up the flowers and pushed open the front door. She gazed over her shoulder one last time before she left, letting the door swing shut behind her.

* * *

The cemetery was only five minutes away, just down the road, but it took Elizaveta ten. She stalled and took the back route through the woods, visiting her most memorable place. As she reached the pine tree, she looked up too see if their branch was still there. It wasn't.

_Damn these wind storms, _she thought, _causing branches to break off of trees._

She breathed in, the smell of pine flooding her nose. She was almost comforted by it. Placing a hand on the bark of the trunk, Elizaveta was reminded of all the sap-cover adventures she had here.

_"Come on," a younger her shouted. "Try and catch me!" she looked around one side of the tree, and no one was there. Suddenly, warm strong arms enfolded her and she leaned into them. She spun around and gazed into the ruby eyes, running her hands through his silver mane._

_"Caught you." He whispered, and pushed her against the tree. That was the site of their first kiss, it was sweet, tasting of pine and smoke and innocence. Their other first happened later at his house._

This was the tree where they read together, kissed together, fought battles together, died together. He had saved her from so much when they first met in Austria's house years ago.

But that was a long time ago. Things change, friends move on, people die.

* * *

Finally, she has decided that she stalled too much. Elizaveta made her way to the cemetery, weaving among the gravestone until she found the one she was looking for. But someone was already there. He looked awfully familiar, but she couldn't quite-

"Alfred?"

The guy stood and turned, his arms wrapped around a stuffed polar bear. His eyes were as read as the maple leaf on his forehead.

"Matthew?" Elizaveta couldn't believe her eyes. Who knew the Canadian cared that much about- but she couldn't even think his name.

"Oh, Elizaveta." Matthew squeaked. "I-I didn't know you would be here." He buried his face in Mr. Kumajiro's fur. "I thought I would pay my regards to G-" Elizaveta raised her hand.

"Don't." she said.

"I-I was just going." He turned and walked off, his baggy sweatshirt showing off the grass stains on his butt. Elizaveta bit her lip again, her eyebrows crinkling together like a caterpillar. She knelt by the gravestone and took off her jacket. She wrapped it around the stone and placed the flowers at the base. From under her shirt, she pulled out the cross, the only thing she had left of him. The silver reflected the tip of the sun that was showing behind clouds in the sky. The Prussian blue added a nice contrast.

"Hey." She whispered, gazing at the gravestone and the picture that sat on top of it. "I came to see you again. I know I haven't been by for awhile, but I don't want you to think that I've forgotten about you." She clutched the cross in her hands and a tear dripped out of her eye. "I miss you."

Looking at the gravestone again, she read the words for the hundredth time, still having trouble believing that the person who belonged to that name was gone forever.

_Gilbert Bielschmidt_

_1818-1947_

_Beloved brother and husband_

Elizaveta couldn't stay any longer. She was about to break down. She stood and kissed the picture's faded lips.

"See you later, Gil." She whispered, then turned and walked slowly away.

Behind her, a silver and red butterfly landed on the place where her lips had touched.


End file.
